


Justice, She Will Serve

by stingingscorpion



Series: Wynonna Earp versus the Apocalypse [2]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Cults, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Getting revenge on bad very no good people, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Slightly Altered Timeline, Swearing, The Last of Us AU no one asked for's sequel no one asked for, Violence, because what's the apocalypse without a good ol' fashioned cult, lying to your wife is also bad and very no good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-01-15 07:09:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21249437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stingingscorpion/pseuds/stingingscorpion
Summary: They made it. They were supposed to be safe, now. She was supposed to keep her family safe.Three months after the Cult of Bulshar invaded Wynonna Earp's home and broke her family, she is ready for revenge. Ready to right the wrongs unfairly done to her. Ready to serve justice.Nicole Haught is losing a grip on her settlement's fragile safety. Losing a grip on keeping all the innocent civilians and all the families, including hers, safe. She will do anything, now more than ever with the possibility of a new member to her own clan, to keep things from falling apart. She will do anything to keep justice.She will join Wynonna, in defeating the evil in the valley.





	1. The Redemption of Those Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo, I wasn't expecting to ever visit this story again. I didn't think there was much to add to this piece, which holds a special place in my heart, then that new Last of Us Part II stuff came out and I... well, I got to brainstorming.
> 
> This is a story about revenge. This is a story about gambling what you have in order to save what you have. It explores elements of grief, as the last installment delved into, and it will dive further into the dangers of how far we're willing to go to protect the ones we love.
> 
> This sequel takes place five years after the first. Wynonna is 40, Nicole is 39, and Waverly is 34.
> 
> I know this one's a lot shorter than the original, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Thank you for coming back into this world with me. :)

The heaviness of the door forced her from her slumber. Her heart, the same steel weight. Her slumber, a constant loop of nightmarish hell, the kind to keep her slashing and kicking and cursing all night for it to end. Her slumber, a nightly torture. A reminder of what she lost. What she _had. _

The memory of a little girl she used to hold close, closer than those in her circle already small. Memories she tried to create, of what could’ve been. What she begged and _ begged _ to happen. Memories of what actually happened.

Horizontal planks placed over the vertical steel bars made the room dark. They had power—fussy at times, but power was a miracle not to be taken for granted—but she so rarely used it. Couldn’t look at herself. Couldn’t look at the little bed across the way from her. Empty. Always, always, _ fucking _ empty_. _

Waking quickly, panicked, she searched around as reality surged into her, a cold sweat consuming her while she tried to gather an understanding. Another being was in the room, standing at the door. She slumped back down with a sigh, running her shaky hands across her face. Her elbow knocked over an empty liquor bottle. Last night’s dinner.

“Sorry,” the other entity spoke, “didn’t think you were sleeping.” They approached slowly, cautiously. “Haven’t seen you all day. Just checking to see if you’re alright, Earp.”

By now reality was set in full, and suddenly she was springing up from the couch she lay, grabbing for proper clothes. “Oh, shit, my shift.”

The other raised a hand, a gesture enough to make her stop her frantic movements. “It’s okay. Dolls covered for you. Don’t worry about it, Wynonna.”

Wynonna Earp fell on her back again. A frustration to her. The usual frustration she’d recently become known for. “Great, because I haven’t piled enough on that man already. Why didn’t you come get me, Nicole?”

Nicole Haught was crossing her arms, amused with the stubbornness of it all. “I did. Twice. But you were _ not _ budging _ . _You said you didn’t want to be bothered today, remember?”

Wynonna looked down, into her lap. “Right.”

Nicole read the new energy pouring in, the only kind acceptable for today, and stepped closer, mere inches away now. The amusement to her disappearing. “_ Are _ you alright?”

“No.” Easy answer, one that required no thought and no reasoning. Nicole understood. If she were Wynonna, she’d surely have fallen apart by now, twice over.

“I’m sorry,” she offered, and Wynonna nodded in numb absence. Nicole respectfully removed her hat, fingers toying with the rim. The accessory, a solid black stetson, was uniform around this place for the part she played in it every day. “Waverly come see you today?”

Wynonna’s eyes moved from blankly staring at Nicole’s toes, upward. “She tried, but I wouldn’t let her in. I can’t take another ‘we all love you and care about you’ speech. Not today. I think I’ll just wait her out.”

Nicole laughed, once again at the ridiculousness of the idea. “Yeah, good luck with that. But she is busy today, so maybe it’ll work.”

“That why you’re bugging me, Sheriff?”

Nicole rolled her eyes at that title. “I really wish people would stop calling me that.”

“Well, you serve justice to evildoers, don’t you?”

Suddenly, Nicole fell serious a moment. “I’d hardly call what we do ‘justice’. It’s just plain cruel.”

“_ They’re _ cruel. They took two of our own, two of _ my _—” Wynonna stopped herself. Shaking her head. “I’m—I’m getting dinner.”

“A bottle of whiskey or _ real _ dinner?”

“I don’t know yet. I just don’t—I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about her.”

She motioned Nicole along, knowing well that tired look on her sister-in-law’s face meant she came straight here after work. Long day, no doubt. These days Nicole Haught was the busiest person here, in the prison dubbed “Sanctuary” by Wynonna herself. Not far off from the actual name, Eden. Believed to be a sanctuary, either way. Up until recent, it truly was.

-

Wynonna was quick to move. The smiles, the stares, the condolences and sympathies—all too much. Just too damn _ much_. Today, more than ever, she craved isolation. Silence. Too much whiskey for her liver to possibly handle. Just her, the food on her tray she wasn’t going to touch, and some peace.

It all went according to plan until her epic, swift exit back to her room was interrupted, when she came face-to-face with someone she only seemed capable of letting down repeatedly. Someone she betrayed. Someone who loved her too much to care how she betrayed him.

She was frozen, a deer in headlights before Xavier Dolls and his impossibly gentle smile. The only one around here she didn’t want to smack off. Because it made her want to burst into tears and beg him to find the person he deserved to be with. Someone who deserved the wonderful smile on his wonderful face.

“Evening, Earp.” He was first to break this awkward silence, and Wynonna was thanking the gods. And cursing them, because she didn’t want to talk to him right now. Or ever, perhaps. She did not have the right to talk with him, and he shouldn’t waste his time on her. There was only so much time to lose in a person.

“Hi,” she said in reply, foolishly, rather than follow her instinct of rushing off without a word. Wasn’t too late yet, was it? (Oh, but how she wanted to _ stay_.)

“Hi.” Wynonna could die with that look he gave her. The one reserved only for her.

“How—How’re you—How’ve you been?”

He shrugged. “Just a little tired.”

Wynonna nodded, fingers tapping at the tray in her hand. One bumped into the fat pile of mashed potatoes. “So you—Um, thanks for taking my shift. I really appreciate it. I know people are up in arms about me not pulling my weight.”

“You shouldn’t listen to them, especially today. Today’s _ hard._ Three months now?”

Her nerves left for sadness. “Yep. First birthday without her. She would’ve been—” Wynonna stopped herself. Not going down that dangerous road right now, certainly not in front of Dolls and in front of everybody and their fruitless sympathies. “Y’know, I gotta—gotta go.”

Dolls stopped her, his hand gently gripping her shoulder. “I’m here if you need me.”

She teared up at that. It was exactly what made this so difficult, so awful, so messed up. “You always are. Even after I—”

“I don’t care about that.”

Wynonna felt her throat tighten, enough to choke her. Difficult, awful, messy. “Yes you do. You’re just too polite to do something about it.”

She easily resumed her escape after that, not bothering to look back on Dolls. If she did, she might’ve turned around.

He watched her go, let her go, his free hand closing around the chain on his neck. Keeping a precious ring on his person forever.

-

Every cell in the prison was converted into a comfortable living space. A _home_. Walls were knocked down to create a fairer-sized space for one person to whole families. Prison cell toilets relocated to the new and remodeled community bathrooms. Materials from the broken walls were used to rebuild more in open spaces of the facilities. All former prison cells were decorated like the homes they were, with a new coat of paint, a few handmade crafts for decoration, and furniture imported from the big city about half an hour away by horse.

The least cell-looking room in the three-story building was the residence of the Haught family, holding just two people. Room for more, if the future called for it.

Currently, Nicole Haught was asleep at the home’s work desk, papers piled high. Two food trays, empty, on her left. Stetson tossed somewhere else. Her head resting on her left elbow, right hand in her busy wife’s left from where she sat across. Plowing through the papers, smiling at Nicole between.

She paused when Nicole’s finger began tracing patterns on the back of her hand, back and forth until meeting the ring on her finger. A family jewel, passed down for its first time.

“I know your job is important,” Nicole mumbled, voice hoarse in her waking, “but it’s so boring.”

Waverly Earp-Haught was smiling at her, as she always seemed to be. “I could tell from your snoring.”

“Sorry.” Nicole moved to stretch, first kissing Waverly’s hand. Warm. Soft, as always.

“Rough day, baby?”

“Dolls was on the same time as me, so we patrolled the outer perimeter together. Like you said: we haven’t really been spending time together lately. We needed that patrol, honestly.”

Waverly smirked, smug. “I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Then some traveler snuck up on us and made off with Dolls’s precious flamethrower, so I chased him down. Didn’t seem dangerous, didn’t try to kill us, so I let him go. He was just some scared kid. Ran for the hills.”

“My poor, brave baby.” Waverly pouted sarcastically. “See? I told you Nedley picked you for a reason. I think he likes you more than his own daughter.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. When we used to patrol, I mostly handled the action for him. I think it made him lazy. No wonder he promoted me; I bought his affection.”

“Or he knew you’d make a great sheriff.”

Nicole shook her head. Made a face. “I really wish everyone would stop calling it that.”

“Well, you have to call it something other than ‘person in charge’.”

“Okay, what about ‘Captain’ or ‘Commander’?”

“It’s basically the same thing. Right? You make sure everyone keeps it together here, and you keep bad people from breaking in and causing trouble. And you’re in charge of the other ‘officers’. Sounds like a sheriff to me.”

“You forgot the part where we unleash a firing squad on wrongdoers instead of jail time.”

Waverly shook her head. “It’s too risky, baby.”

“We’ll keep them somewhere else. Or drop them somewhere. Dolls’s execute-and-loot practice is harsh.”

Waverly took her hand, a deep care and understanding in the look she was giving Nicole. Nicole, and her endless pool of empathy in a world quickly losing its own. “He knows that. Everyone does. No one likes it, especially those with hearts as big as yours.”

Nicole shot off a flustered simile.

“But that’s our world now, isn’t it?” Waverly paused. “Unfortunately.”

“If only the Fireflies hadn’t stopped looking for a cure. Maybe the world would be back on track, by now. Assuming something like a cure would actually fix things.” Nicole exhaled.

Waverly cleared her throat. A strange uneasiness seemed to wash over her as she retreated her hand and awkwardly shifted in her seat. Nicole wasn’t sure what to think of it.

“Uh,” Waverly moved to change the subject, “did you see Wynonna today? I’ve been so busy. I’m just happy Jeremy found and restored that copy machine, it’d be way worse with it; making copies by hand for so many kids is _ awful. _”

“She just went to get dinner. Real dinner.”

Waverly exhaled. “That’s a relief to hear. Assuming she actually eats. I’ll try to stop by later.”

“Today’s _ her _ birthday. Can’t be easy.”

“Mama and Alice, on the same day. Doc leaving, right after Alice was born.” Waverly’s head lowered. “It’s just not a good day.”

Nicole caught the falling expression on her wife’s face and grabbed her han d, grounding. “I’m so sorry. I knew they were going out. I should’ve sent someone with them.”

Waverly looked into her eyes. “It’s not your fault. It’s that stupid Clootie family and their followers.”

Nicole sighed at the name. Awful, relentless people, they were. “I wish they’d let up. They’re desperate to take this place, and at the rate we’re losing people I doubt we can hold it for much longer.”

Waverly was leaning forward a bit, hope to her eyes now. “We have Nedley running this place, Dolls running the attack squads, and the world’s best sheriff on defense. I think we’re here to stay. This is just a rough patch. They’ll let up, eventually.”

Nicole found the optimism hard to take, but appreciated it either way. This family, the Clootie family, were terrible people. Terrible, relentless people with an even worse set of followers. Michelle, as head of the prison, dealt with them for years before they eventually managed to kill her. The one and only time she let her guard down, going on a picnic with her granddaughter. Nedley, as her replacement, was the unlucky asshole who inherited the mess. As were Nicole and Dolls.

The Cult was organized, smart, strong, and determined. Attacks were random and unpredictable. Small groups every time, usually small enough to escape after taking down one or two of Nicole’s men. Thing was, one or two each time added up.

Lately the cultists were getting bolder and bolder. Killing more men. Kidnapping some and sending back their severed heads. Hanging their corpses from their camp like decoration. Nicole’s deepest fear was waking one morning to no other guards. Losing this place. Losing her family.

So she leaned in, Waverly meeting her halfway, and kissed her partner for life, one exchange she prayed would last forever, a second following because _ damn _ was it hard to stop. Even after five years together.

And she knew Waverly felt the same. That look in her eye when she glanced to their bed, then to Nicole, then down to the papers on her desk. Raising her eyebrows in a pleading way.

“One quick one?”

Nicole laughed. “Don’t you have papers to grade? Kids to teach reading to? Occasionally explore some history?”

The way Waverly was eyeing her was dangerous; a look that could do anything. “There’s only one part of history I’d like to explore right now.”

Nicole sighed in surrender. Not that she had much of an argument. “You’re terrible.”

Waverly winked.

And then cursed, because someone knocked on their door. Some very rude person with no respect for private time.

“If Lonnie lost his gun again,” Nicole grumbled, “I swear I’m kicking him out.”

“He should really be on farming duty,” Waverly agreed.

“No, we tried that. Remember those really small potatoes?”

“Those were cute!”

“They were wasteful. _ Certain people _ were angry.”

The knocking on the door continued, and with it Nicole groaned.

“I _ just _ got off my shift. Am I in Hell? Is that what this is?”

She looked over to Waverly, who smiled sympathetically.

“No, can’t be. There’s an angel.”

Dolls was standing on the other side of the door, not the faintest hint of a smile to him. Then again, he wasn’t the smiling type to begin with.

Next thing Nicole knew, not even two hours after her last shift ended, she was being dragged off to do more work. They needed to change their patrol routes. Again. Last time they changed it was to adjust the patrol group sizes. That stupid cult, taking them out one by one by the day.

They met with a new warden in a new office. Randy Nedley replaced Michelle Gibson—recently changed from Earp, the more and more stories she heard about her ex-husband’s failures to keep his children safe—but took a new office. After her death, moving all her things out felt wrong. Rude. Like they were erasing her memory.

By now they should’ve been experts, but it still took an hour to redraw the routes. Taking a risk by leaving less security by the main gate. It was a heavy gate, and the usual crowd was typically small. More people needed to be out in the field, patrolling. The risk _ had _ to be taken. That, or those who posed as normal, old-world civilians all these years were suddenly going to get thrust back into the battlefield via draft. 

Waverly was one of those people. She hadn’t touched a gun in five years. Nicole was not letting that happen. Waverly was perfectly happy being a teacher, and Nicole intended to keep things that way.

It took another hour to gather off-shift patrols and explain their routes, then instruct the current patrols of what they’d be doing next rotation.

“Why even have routes, at this point?” Someone whined. “Let’s just free-for-all, the way you guys change your minds.”

“It’s the most strategic way,” Nicole defused. _ Tried _ to defuse; most didn’t care for it, given the giant, collective groan.

“Or you could abandon your post and get dozens of innocents killed, if you prefer.” Dolls was not as nice as her. More direct. Less caring of who liked him and who didn’t.

The person he learned this mentality from, Wynonna Earp, pulled Nicole aside after the final meeting. She had her own ideas. Her own ways of getting rid of the people who killed her mother and her daughter.

“There’s only one way to stop these cultist assholes, Haught, and you know it.”

Nicole was too tired for another pitch, so she was furious with herself for motioning Wynonna to go on.

“We need to invade _ their _ camp. We destroy _ their _ homes, kill _ their _ families. We just wipe them off the fucking map!”

The fact she was drunk did not help to buy Nicole’s support.

“Come on, Haught. They’re _ killing _ us. They’ve been killing us for a long time. Let’s just end this, already.”

Nicole was neutral. Calm. Uncaring, for the idea. “I think it’s _ today _ and you’re feeling hurt.”

“Oh, come on—”

“We’re not doing that. We can’t move a squad out of here and leave a giant opening—”

“Then we leave all those outsiders behind! It’ll just be us! Like the old days. The old team—we crossed a whole country by ourselves! It’s how we got here in the first place! We can kill a few delinquents!”

“It’s irresponsible.”

Wynonna shoved Nicole, before walking off. Adding, in Nicole’s face, whiskey laced strongly with the words, “So is letting the people you love die.”

-

She was _ sick _ and _ tired _ of the sympathetic looks. The apologizes. The _ reminders it happened. _

Any time the Cult was so much as mentioned. Any time someone walked by with their own kid. Any time Wynonna _ breathed, _ there was the _ fucking _ sympathy.

She didn’t want sympathy. She wanted her daughter back.

She wanted the Cult of Bulshar and the Clootie family, their beloved ringleaders, to die. She wanted every single one of them to _ die, _the same way they slaughtered a three year old girl.

Wynonna pushed past all the sad eyes and all the sad whispers, her gear in hand, and left the prison through the farms in the back. The concrete of an old prison yard, dug up and turned into a condensed farming space. It was a miracle anything even grew there. Wynonna wondered how long they would have it before the Cult took that, too.

The Cult of Bushar were not new to the area. Were not new to the prison. The worst part about Michelle’s death was the fact she was murdered by the people she was trying to eradicate.

They were a gang of purists. Rough initiations. Doing things, in the name of God. Reciting all the Bible verses they could remember. Killing those who did not fit their perfect world. The Infected, to them, were God’s abominations; those who defied His word, turned into monsters. They wanted to take the prison, because the prison was a secure, luxurious paradise to operate from. The damn thing was even called Eden by its residents. The perfect place for children of God to rest their heads while they worked hard to shape the world to the image of _ perfection. _

Normally Wynonna rolled her eyes at post-apocalypse cults. There were plenty to go around, each with their own unique take. But this one, this Cult of Bulshar, this Bulshar Clootie and his family—they were no joke.

Standing here, in the middle of an endless field, staring at a grave too small, Wynonna _ knew,_ for certain, these people were no joke.

Standing here, as her peers died one by one, week after week, day after day, she knew, for certain, these people were no joke. They were going to take her home. They already had a small bite of her family. They were going to take the rest, too.

Forget Nicole. She was doing this, herself. She was killing the Cult, with her own hands. Nobody would die the way her Alice Michelle did. Never again.

“Wynonna, what’re you doing out here by yourself?”

She was furious to turn and find Waverly. Out here, in the open. Dolls had escorted her, too. Two people Wynonna cared about, out here in the open like a couple of morons.

“Get back inside,” Wynonna snapped.

Waverly did not flinch. Waverly was as stubborn as every Earp to ever walk the planet. The only reason she moved was to join Wynonna at the graves. The only reason Dolls backed off was because Waverly asked him to.

“I hate that he helped you with this.” Wynonna’s eyes did not leave Dolls. Walking away, his head not on a swivel but on the ground. Thinking. He was a thinker.

“I hate that you came out here by yourself,” Waverly snapped back. “I also hate that you don’t trust him—”

“I trust Dolls, Waverly. That’s the problem! He trusts me! We were together and I cheated on him! I had someone else’s baby while we were engaged!”

Waverly was quiet. “You thought he was dead.”

“Yeah, and my grand solution to that was getting drunk and fucking Doc. Doc, the fucking traitor! Doc, the Cultist! A follower of Bulshar!” 

At least they had something in common: things got hard, and Doc left. He left, everyone he cared for watching him walk away and betray them forever.

What a coward.

The fact Waverly was so calm and so kind was _ annoying. _“He thought his wife was dead, Wynonna. And now she’s right there, right in front of him? If that happened to me and Nicole, I would’ve joined them, too.”

“He’s a coward, and if he walks through that gate, I swear I’ll—”

“Wynonna—”

“I’ll kill him and every last one of his cult buddies. I will kill every last one of them.”

“You don’t mean that. You’re just—”

“No, Waverly.” She turned to her sister, her eyes leaving her daughter’s grave. “I _ mean _ that. If they’re a member of that cult, they’re on my list. I don’t care about Doc or his fucking wife. And while we’re at it, you can tell _ yours _ I’m actually making a difference, because sitting around isn’t doing _ shit.” _

Waverly looked as if her heart was breaking. Then Wynonna implied Nicole was doing terrible and she immediately fell on the defensive. “Please don’t talk down on Nicole.”

“She’s getting us killed and she doesn’t care—maybe it’s time for some criticism.”

Waverly only stared, in hurt. It wasn’t the words. It was the person saying them. “You’re only saying that because you’re hurt. You don’t mean it. This isn’t you.”

Wynonna _ hated _ it when Waverly rationalized. It’s all she did when Alice died. Trying to fix everything. Trying to make sense of something that didn’t make sense. “She isn’t doing anything about this. Do you know how many times we’ve changed our patrol routes? Do you know how many people we lost last month? And the month before that? How many we’re totaling this month? She’s too _ soft. _ She’s _ letting _ this happen. Don’t defend her.”

“I’ll defend my _ wife _ as much as I want.” It took everything for Waverly not to raise her voice. “The same reason I put up with half the things you say—I love her.

“Believe me, Waverly, you can’t lie to someone you love. You’re holding the truth from her—”

“I’m doing it to protect her—”

“You’re controlling her life for your own gain. How is it _ I’m _ the sick one here?”

Waverly left her to her sulking. Maybe Wynonna would drink herself into a coma and wake up a better, nicer person.

She marched right into the prison, to one of the raised guard posts on the walkways of the walls that kept everyone protected, and kissed Nicole. Pulling her confused partner into a close hug.

“I love you, Nicole.”

“Um, I-I love you, too Wave.”

Putting her arm around Waverly, the one with a healed over bite mark. A tattoo of roses covering it, like nothing ever happened. Like Nicole Haught wasn’t immune to the virus that destroyed most of the world’s population. Like Nicole Haught wasn’t the answer to bringing it all back together.

-

“I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Because he’s a genius. Smartest guy in town.”

“With all the parts I’ve salvaged, I think I can make a running system—”

“Effing genius, man. Effing. Genius.”

“—that’ll _ stay _ running.”

Robin Jett was a find. The type of person with layered knowledge in things better used for trivia than actual _ use. _Nice. Cheery. Best damn potato farmer in the settlement.

Most of all: he was Jeremy’s husband. After several months of flirting and clear connection, they only officially began their relationship after Waverly made the final push and “accidentally” had Jeremy put on farming duty.

Second of all: he was an extremely supportive individual. Tagging along and eventually lending a huge hand in planning the monthly salvage raids into nearby towns, just to help Jeremy get new tech and new tools.

All those salvage raids, all those tools, all that tech, broken down and remade, sitting around them in Jeremy’s office: a new security system. _ Cameras. _ A camera system, in the friggin’ apocalypse.

Dolls was impressed. Jeremy’s alarm-rigged spotlights were already a life saver. Now they could station hidden cameras out in the field. Be alerted long before Cultists and other bandits tried to take the prison. Have a heads up.

Lose a whole lot less people.

“Somewhere down the line, I might even be able to add turrets,” Jeremy added, grinning with pride at his creation and the open field of possibilities. “We’ll need an alternative to bullets, though. Bullets aren’t cheap. Or easy to find.”

Robin was staring at him, lost in a pride of his own. “Effing genius.”

“This is fantastic work, Chetri.” Dolls examined one of five cameras, turning it over gently. “We can test run it, whenever you’re ready. Is the live feed working, too, or does it need time?”

“Nope, that’s ready, too! Wanna know how it works?”

“Oh, no that’s—”

“So this part here . . .”

It was three minutes of technical talk Dolls could never hope to follow before Nicole knocked on the door and, quite frankly, saved the day. 

“I’m out for the day. Need anything from me?”

She really hoped the answer was no. five minutes. Nicole just needed five minutes of _ nothing. _

When Dolls motioned her over to check Jeremy’s finished project, she nearly groaned in exhaustion. Luckily it wasn’t too harmless. A summary of the tech, its use, a small demonstration. She liked it. It was a _ fantastic _idea.

It was just the assurance she needed to get the whispers of Wynonna’s pitch out of her head.

She and Dolls walked out together. Dolls, to his shift. Nicole, to anywhere there wasn’t work for her. Then Dolls asked about Wynonna and she felt to pass out on the ground, right there.

“Has she been okay? I know yesterday was—Well, it was _ yesterday.” _

“She got through it a lot better than I thought she would. Nobody got hurt, thankfully. I was hoping she wouldn’t turn up to her shift. Thanks for covering, by the way.”

“Anything for Wynonna. I just—” Dolls stopped, to exhale. Exhausted, in his own way, too. “I wish I could reach out to her. Preferably before she does something of the Wynonna value.”

Nicole had no plans to mention the kill-them-all pitch. Or her fear she’d actually go through with it, with or without help. 

“She just doesn’t want to talk to me.”

It took a lot to break Xavier Dolls’s heart. “It’s not your fault, Dolls. She feels guilty about Doc. We all thought you were dead. We thought Clootie’s goons had you, for good. They don’t normally take prisoners, not for as long as you were gone.”

“I was too high a rank to kill.”

“And then Doc saw Kate helping you back and he left. I don't know why Kate would even stay with those assholes in the first place, but—Anyway, then she had Alice. And Alice wasn't yours. But you loved her like she was.”

“She was a part of Wynonna. Of course I loved her. I don’t care whether or not Wynonna cheated. I just want to help. I want her to be okay. I want her _ back.” _

Nicole sighed. “We all want her back.”

-

Classes ran late. Older kids spent their mornings helping on the farm, and their afternoons learning to shoot. Ammo was in limited supply, so the best training they could get was by Nerf guns and an instructor pulling them after every shot to mimic the kick of a real gun. Newbie recruits were always entertaining to watch, during raids.

Waverly taught kids of all ranges. Higher level English to teens, who mostly questioned the need to be literate in a world like theirs, and lower levels to little kids who had more enthusiasm to learn. History, as well. Though she didn’t delve too deep into what the world used to be. Too depressing.

It wasn’t Nicole’s plan to step into a room full of moody teens, but she did. The kid in the back with their muddy boots atop their desk and I-really-don’t-care-about-this expression reminding her of a younger Nicole the same age.

“Looks like we have a surprise guest,” Waverly said. Setting _ Fahrenheit 451 _ aside for now. “Let’s give our Sheriff Haught a warm welcome, shall we?”

Scattered clapping. Couple yawns. Didn’t exactly make Nicole feel like a superstar. Same kid in the back, the perfect, spitting image of Teen Nicole, took the opportunity to point out the rumors about the Cult of Bulshar getting closer and closer to overthrowing the prison. If Waverly hadn’t set the book down already, she would’ve dropped the damn thing.

“Let’s not bother the sheriff about—”

Nicole stepped closer to the center of the room, where Waverly typically lectured. “We are currently in the process of installing a new security system. We’ll be putting five cameras with functional live streams around our perimeter, to help alert us when intruders step onto our territory. This system’s going to take us a long way. I assure you, everything is under control.”

Her mouth felt bland. Like she was telling lies. Even _ she _ wasn’t convinced by it.

Wynonna’s pitch echoed in her head. Was this really the best she could do for the people of Eden? For its _ children? _

The teen in the back somehow managed to lean even further back in her chair, her head bumping against the wall. “Yeah, that’s what my parents say you government types used to tell them when things were going wrong.”

Waverly promptly dismissed class, early. Nicole made sure to wave goodbye to the moody teen. “Kids,” she laughed.

“Did you know her name is Hayley?”

Nicole turned to Waverly. “No way. That was my sister’s name! Before she changed it and turned into an asshole. Well, _ bigger _ asshole.

“It’s an older sister thing. They’re all jerks.”

Laughing, Nicole asked, “So you talked with Wynonna today, then?”

Waverly groaned.

“Well, I intended to come over here and ask if you wanted to get an early dinner. Sorry I hijacked your class instead.”

“That’s okay.” Waverly indicated the book on her desk. “They weren’t feeling Ray Bradbury today.”

Nicole shook her head. “Their loss.” Such a thing earned her a kiss.

“To answer your question, though, I can’t make it. I have a meeting with Jackson Miller’s foster parents.”

“Jackson Miller. Is he that kid we found last month? Next to his dead parents?”

“That’s the one. He used to love reading, but even he’s falling behind in it. I’m worried about him. He’s only fourteen and he watched his parents die—that’s not easy.”

“No, it isn’t. Okay. I’ll go check up on Wynonna. Let me know how it goes with Jackson.”

“Meet you at home?”

“If Wynonna doesn’t tear my eyes out today.”

“Love you.”

Nicole stopped to smile, like it was the first time Waverly ever told her. “I love you, too.”

-

There was a muttered, _ Please don’t be drunk _ before Nicole knocked on Wynonna’s door. For the sake of being polite. It was useless otherwise, because Wynonna never actually answered the door. But, she was usually too out of it to lock up.

Nicole couldn’t tell if that was the case today. She asked, twice, if Wynonna was up for dinner. No answer, twice. Just silent sitting. Staring at Alice’s empty bed, as if she were in a trance.

“Wynonna?”

“Have you had time to think about my plan?”

In a snap, Nicole went from worried to annoyed. At least some hint of her old feelings for Wynonna were here. “I said no. It’s too r—”

The speed Wynonna stood and slammed a whiskey bottle against the wall actually made Nicole _ jump. _“At some point,” she began, pointing an accusing finger at Nicole, stepping over to close a threatening distance, “you need to step up, Haught. You need to grow up. Things are getting worse and worse. Those assholes are killing us. Don’t you care about this town? Don’t you care? It’s only a manner of—”

“We are not doing this, Wynonna. We are not blindly charging into an enemy camp with a tiny team and marching to our deaths. We’re staying here, where we have backup and a defensive perimeter. The home field advantage is the best possible way to go. I’m sorry, but—”

“You’re not sorry. By now they know this place as a home of their own. And soon it’ll be their _ actual _ home.”

“I’m not letting you get killed by your own temper.”

Temper. Sure.

Wynonna shoved Nicole. She wanted a temper? There it was.

“I’ll let you have that one,” Nicole threatened, and with the words Wynonna felt a need to do it again, “but not another. Knock it off.”

“Don’t you want a nice life with Waverly, Nicole? Don’t you want her to be safe?”

“Of course I do. It’s why I’m keeping us on defense! It’s why I work so god damn hard and it’s why I put up with your _ shit_.”

“Get out.”

“Oh come on, Wyn—”

“Get out. I don’t want killers in my home.”

Nicole grabbed Wynonna’s hands before Wynonna could shove her again. Shoved her back. “You’re no better than I am.”

“At least I’m honest about it.”

Wynonna had the last word of their argument, as Nicole chose to be the bigger person and walk away.

“Coward.”

Nicole barely had enough time to recover, to even think about clearing her head, before she saw the people of her settlement running, in a panic.

Again. They were under attack again. With a tired sigh and a curse, she sprinted for the main gate.

-

The cultists were everywhere. Everywhere, like ants. It was abnormal, different from the usual, controlled, smaller groups. They were _ really _ trying today. 

The settlement’s sheriff did not jump headfirst into the attack. She retreated into the prison. Jeremy wasn’t the only one with a work in progress.

“Rosita, are the bombs ready?”

It wasn’t unusual to see Rosita Bustillos, by herself, working past red, tired eyes, pushing her biochemistry degree to its fullest value. It was unusual, however, to see her moving in a frantic worry.

Even Rosita Bustillos was afraid for the future of Eden.

“Please,” Nicole begged, “tell me you have something ready for me. Anything. There are a _ lot _ of them out there.”

Rosita dumped an awful-smelling concoction into a flask. “How many?”

“A lot more than usual, maybe triple? I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know why there’re so many of them!”

“They know we’re getting weaker. I’d get used to this crowd, if I were you. However many of them make it out of here.”

“Assuming they’re the ones that’ll lose today.”

Rosita shoved something into Nicole’s hands. A shade of green so dark it was almost black. “Have a little faith, Sheriff.” She handed several more glass balls of dark green weirdness to Nicole. “Throw this into the larger crowds. Make sure none of our people are around.”

Nicole was already halfway out the door. “What does it do?”

“Basically, it’s poison gas. Don’t get anywhere near it!”

“Thank you, Rosita.”

“Go, don’t thank me!”

-

Not a soul was fighting the invaders on the ground. There were simply too many of them. Each and every one of Nicole’s “officers” of Eden retreated and lined up on walkways, poking their heads up and down from cover. She immediately saw someone shot, when she returned from Rosita’s lab. One of her people, not the assholes below. His friend calling out to him from down the line. 

Pushing everything aside a moment, Nicole could admire the cultists’ bravery. Standing in the middle of a field, no cover, charging in with guns blazing. Like they were trying to be killed. Like they were _ asking _ for it. But with the speed they were shooting, it really didn’t seem that way.

Maybe it wasn’t blind stubbornness. Maybe it was desperation. A little trouble back at home? What was the sudden rush, otherwise?

No further time to speculate. She handed the bombs off to Dolls with a quick explanation, and straight away discussed the best places to drop them.

Two words in, someone else answered the question for them.

“The front gate! They’re going to break through the front gate!”

Nicole and Dolls rushed over without a second thought. Those assholes, those smart ass little assholes, were keeping the guards’ attentions somewhere else. Multiple somewhere elses. A big chunk went and attacked _ this _ corner. Another, over there. A small group sniped at walkway patrols and kept them pinned and distracted. All the while a smaller, quicker group was trying to charge the gate. Explosives in hand.

Nicole dropped two of the bombs below. Shooed Dolls to another one of the groups, wherever they were bunched up.

She watched, in nervous terror, as each and every one of the afflicted choked to death on their own, closing throats. They were _ so close _ to the main gate. They were _ so close _ to blowing it open, like it was nothing. Charging further inside. Dropping more of their explosives.

Taking the whole prison, on her watch.

Nedley would never let this happen. Michelle would be disappointed.

Waverly would be dead.

Nicole caught a glimpse of Wynonna, where she was stationed across the way. Staring, right back at Nicole.

Her expression, like her pointing finger earlier, accusing.

-

They used up all of Rosita’s bombs and spent a lot of ammo, but they managed to survive. Barely.

Things ended with a handful of Eden guards, finally risking the dangers of taking the battlefield by foot. Some of the cultists made off, with two of their horses. The assholes killed four more, just for the sake of screwing the whole settlement over.

Nicole was on her own copper mare, Penny, but she did not return to the prison as quickly as she rode off. Penny, probably catching her breath. Nicole, lecturing herself on everything that went wrong.

Wynonna’s pitch echoed in her mind.

Truly, what _ was _ Nicole doing to stop these invasions? Was sitting back on defense really her best strategy? How many people died today? How many more people were going to die, by the end of the week?

Never had anyone gotten so close to the main gates. Never, had they been taken by such surprise. The cultists knew how low on numbers Eden was. Today was supposed to be the final strike, wasn’t it? They weren’t supposed to make it today, were they?

Back at the stables, not yet fully inside, Nicole jumped off her horse to meet Waverly. Waverly, armed with the shotgun she hadn’t touched in five years and looking around for Nicole in a horror. Nicole pulled her in for the longest hug of their lives.

And behind them, Wynonna was watching. Shaking her head.

Her plan echoed in Nicole’s mind.

-

Four horses killed. Two stolen. Six guards killed. Four more, injured.

They redrew the routes again.

Nicole, hearing Wynonna’s pitch over and over. 

She wasn’t doing enough. 

When she finally got home for the night, she slammed her sheriff’s hat on the ground and _ cursed. _

“Nicole?”

She cursed again. “I’m sorry, Wave, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Come here, baby.”

Nicole dropped her gear right off her waist, placed her handgun on the nightstand, and settled behind Waverly. Breathing her in, trying to shrug the whole day off. 

“Are you alright?” Waverly took Nicole’s hand. Nicole squeezed in return. 

“Just tired.” There was a pause so long, Waverly thought Nicole had dozed off. “How was your meeting?”

She felt Waverly shift. Let go of Nicole’s hand and looked over her shoulder. “Are you awake? Like _ awake _ awake?”

“Yeah.” It was a lie, of course, but right now, after everything, all Nicole wanted to do was listen to Waverly’s voice. 

She didn’t think anything of it. Then Waverly left the bed to turn on the lights and returned with a serious face, and suddenly Nicole wanted to leave for a coffee. 

“Gil didn’t want to talk to me about Jackson’s schoolwork. Well, not _ technically_, he—Gil’s been looking for stable families for all the foster kids he has. Parents to give them their full attention.”

Nicole sat up. 

“He—” Waverly smiled so large— “wanted to know if we were interested in adopting Jackson.”

Nicole no longer needed the coffee. 

Her silence was killing Waverly. “Do you—Do you want to have a son, Nicole?”

For a moment Nicole was frozen. The next, she was laughing joyously and pulling Waverly into a giant hug. “I would _ love _ to have a son with you.”

Waverly held her tighter. “Let’s have a son, then.”

Like a demon or a curse, Wynonna’s words echoed in Nicole’s head. 

She was going to raise a kid, in a place that was falling apart. 

She couldn’t protect her own people, never mind a kid. 

Waverly said Jackson’s foster parents wanted to meet them at the end of the week, when they both had a day off fully invest into the transition.

One week. Nicole had one week to fix this. One week, to eradicate the Cult. 

-

First thing in the morning, earlier than the sun, Nicole knocked on Wynonna’s door. Politely. Before bursting in, rudely. 

One minute Wynonna was cursing her out. The next, for the first time in a long time, _ smiling. _

“I’m in. Just you and me. Anyone else will try to stop us.”

That’s where Wynonna smiled, because that’s where she realized she’d won. 

“We’re leaving now, before the next shift starts. Before the skeleton crew sizes up. We can sneak out. Are you ready?”

Wynonna grabbed her weapon from the table next to her. Peacemaker, loaded, safety off. “Oh, Nicole, I’ve been ready for this for a long time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lying to your spouse? That always goes great! ... Right?
> 
> This is my way of saying Happy Halloween! Unless you don't celebrate Halloween, in which case, happy Thursday!
> 
> So, I saw an old Tweet from Kat saying something about Nicole having a sister named Hayley. Whether or not it’s canon, it still bugged me. Thus the line about this AU’s Victoria Haught changing it from Hayley. Look, it’s really not a big deal but it was bugging me!
> 
> Next chapter, we'll follow our rogues as they venture into the Cult of Bulshar's camp. A place totally not full of smiles and rainbows. Meanwhile, the rest of the team will piece together someone and someone else seem to be missing...


	2. Through the Valley

“I can’t believe you didn’t bring the stupid horse.”

“You’ll survive, Wynonna.”

“My head hurts.”

“Hangover.”

“My feet hurt.”

“Bad choice in shoes.”

“My stomach hurts.”

“Well, not eating’ll do that. Being out of shape, too.”

“Horse would’ve gotten us there faster.”

“Yeah, well. March your flabby ass.”

“Why the hell did I pick _ you _?”

It was just them, walking the plains. Boots dragging through blade after blade of green grass, more alive than either of them had felt in a long time. Sun warming their bones. Just Sheriff Nicole Haught and Deputy Wynonna Earp, on a Sunday stroll to demolish an entire cult. Just an ordinary afternoon!

Traveling by horse already took a while from the prison to just about anywhere. Walking . . . walking sucked.

After three hours of impatient stomping around in stupid, happy nature, Wynonna decided walking, as a whole, _ sucked. _

Taking Nicole’s horse was too risky. Riding on over to enemy territory and hitching a horse at their front gate? Not a common practice in war. At least, Nicole didn’t think so. She loved that horse. Didn’t want her “Pretty Penny” to get hurt. The space was too large and too open to hide her. Wynonna knew that, and understood that. But, _ good lord— _

“There’s the camp.”

Nicole pointed right at it, but Wynonna couldn’t believe her eyes. They were really here. They were really, _ really _ doing this.

There was no pause. Wynonna marched on, her family revolver in hand. Feet suddenly alive, ready to keep moving for this. Gunbelt loaded up. Today, she’d avenge her daughter’s murder. Today, she’d be serving _ justice. _

Behind her, there was a pause. Nicole couldn’t believe her eyes. They were _ really _ doing this. This, this _ suicide _ mission. Going behind Waverly’s back. Waverly would never betray her trust like this. Never lie to her, like _ this. _

There was hesitance, before Nicole loaded her pistol, slung a rifle over her shoulder, and followed Wynonna. Today, she’d end it. Today, she’d finally do her job as sheriff and protect the people of Eden.

The camp itself was a horror. Designed, on first look, to work as a threat to any who’d dare enter. a winding setup of tall wooden barriers, the tops shaven down to fine spikes. It used to be an empty cliff side with a lone cabin. Now it was an evil fun house filled with evil clowns. Evil, culty clowns.

It was Nicole’s plan to sneak in through the cliff side. From what she knew from Michelle, there were tunnels carved underneath the cabin, stretching all the way to a sliver of rock on the cliff face that led back to the hills and away from the camp entirely. Old escape route, built long before the Clooties and long before the end of the world. It led right to the cabin in the center. The only proper building, not made from wood scrap and old tents, home to the head family.

But Wynonna insisted on sneaking into the camp directly through a break in the planks. Like a suicidal asshole. Nicole, like a suicidal fool, followed.

Usual patrols were distracted. Under the light of midday’s warmth, a ceremony was ongoing. Whistling and cheering, as a new recruit was held down and branded. 

Nicole hated seeing the cult’s symbol plastered near the prison. On discarded weapons. On her officer’s corpses. Sometimes on her home’s walls. Quite frankly, it looked like a poorly drawn beetle. And here this fool was, happily participating in a terrible initiation ritual. Becoming one of them.

Wynonna looked around, to the camp’s “décor”. Severed heads. Verses written in blood. That terrible symbol, etched into every possible surface like notes in a mad scientist’s journal.

She decided she was going to burn this place down, too. Burn everything in the hellfire it deserved to see.

But first, of course, Bulshar’s head.

-

“This is extremely suspicious.”

Waverly paced, up and down Dolls’s office.

“Nicole wouldn’t leave without telling me, and she sure as _ shit _ wouldn’t walk anywhere. Penny’s still in the stables. Was she taken?”

Dolls decided to table the action of cleaning his flamethrower for now, and sat forward. Focused on Waverly. “No one saw her leave. No strange sightings, either. Maybe she went for a walk without telling anyone?”

“No. No, no. No. Nicole is thirty-nine, she’s lost the joy of a mid-afternoon walk. Her words, not mine.” She stopped her pattern, right in front of Dolls. “You know she would never miss a shift, either.”

Dolls watched her as she resumed her pace. Hoping she would stop, because it was becoming a dizzying process. “Maybe she’s with Wynonna?”

“Wynonna’s not home. No one’s seen her, either.” Waverly stopped, her hands fidgeting with one another. Fingers rubbing against one another, possibly making friction aggressive enough to light the flamethrower on fire. “Dolls, I’m _ worried _ . What if something _ happened? _ The cult’s clearly getting bolder, what if they—” She stopped herself, horrified by her own mind. “What if they took them?”

Dolls had a slightly worse thought. What if they went _ after _ the cult?

No. No, Nicole wouldn’t let that happen.

“If they took Nicole,” he thought aloud, “they’d brag about it. They bragged when they took me.”

Suddenly his shoulder ached. Where they carved that ugly symbol in, just to piss of the people of Eden. Trying to lure them right into their camp for a trap. People were furious when Dolls told them to let it go. Some select brave fools tried a sneak attack on the cult. Their severed heads were returned promptly the next morning. 

“The only reason they let me go was to try and get me to scare everyone. And they made sure everyone _ saw _ I was taken. They wouldn’t take Nicole in silence.”

“Then where is she?”

Thinking aloud again, Dolls listed, “She wasn’t on patrol; you checked. I was just in Jeremy’s lab, and he was making out with Robin, so I doubt she’s there.”

Waverly’s panic paused a moment to allow her to smile about the couple. The couple she worked hard to push together. “I’m so happy they’re together.”

“Nicole works on secret projects with Rosita. Weapons projects.” He stood. “Let’s go to her lab.”

It wasn’t a silent walk to Rosita’s lab. It was the same two questions, left and right. _ Have you seen Wynonna? _ Always followed with a remark about how she’s probably drunk in a ditch somewhere. _ Have you seen the sheriff this morning? _ Smart remark about finding Wynonna in a ditch. Not entirely helpful.

“Did you check the wine cellar?”

Rosita was not entirely helpful, either.

She was alone, as usual, working her head off in her private lab. Walls still cement gray, not a single poster to distract from the fact it was very much a former prison cell. Same old-world sink in the far corner. Many, many salvaged desks and many, many glass tubes. Her most prized possession was an old microscope she and Jeremy fully restored.

“Have you seen Nicole, at least?”

Waverly’s follow up question was met with less sarcasm. Simply because was sweet, sweet Waverly. An honest, “Not since the raid.”

Waverly feared kidnapping. Dolls feared very, very, very, _ very _ stupid invasion idea. He had initially, right away, and now even more, with Nicole missing after a giant raid that ended sour, it seemed more likely. Nicole was only impulsive when it came to the safety of her family. “Impulsive” here meaning “just plain stupid”.

Dolls began to leave the room. “Let’s go ask Jeremy.”

Across the way, in a room far more decorative, far more lively, Jeremy had no clue, either. In truth, he was about to ask Waverly; he’d been waiting on seeing Nicole before launching the cameras project. The only logical person to ask next was Nedley.

Randy Nedley, who looked ready to shoot himself as one of the settlement’s officers, a man named Lonnie, talked and talked and _ talked _ . Going on and on about absolutely _ nothing. _ Even Waverly didn’t feel bad about interrupting.

She asked first, plowing the door right open and effectively startling Lonnie into a blessed silence, “Have you seen Nicole or Wynonna today?”

Nedley shooed off Lonnie, but the man did not move. “I haven’t. Wynonna I rarely see to begin with, but Nicole typically stops by this time of day. Ever since Chrissy told her I don’t eat lunch, she stops by and _ makes _ me.”

“Do you know where she could be?”

A shrug. “You know her better than I do.”

“Did she say anything to you after the raid?” Dolls asked. Nedley shook his head.

“Wasn’t much time for talking.”

Suddenly Lonnie was pitching in, “That raid was crazy.” At the sound of his voice, Nedley looked ready to fall over and die again. Dolls stared at him, but he didn’t take the hint to leave.

So Dolls figured he’d ask. “Did _ you _ see Sheriff Haught today? Or were you too busy not doing your job, as usual?”

“I saw her and Wynonna sneaking out this morning. They took a blind spot. I only saw them because I’d misplaced my gun and I was looking for it.”

Waverly threw her head back. Nedley groaned. Dolls grew angrier, as he asked, “You let us ask Randy all these questions and you didn’t say anything?”

Lonnie shrugged. “You didn’t ask me!”

-

As screams of pain echoed, cheering ensued. _ Cheering _, as someone branded themselves with the mark. The mark of the cult. The promise they were part of something, no longer alone in this world of blasting bullets and distrust.

The promise they were signing up for insanity.

Signing up for what Wynonna had in store for them this day. 

Idiot should’ve just stayed home.

It was more of the same disgust as Wynonna and Nicole snuck through, following each winding gate closer and closer to the cabin in the center of it all, standing proud in its perfect condition. Wynonna planned to burn the damn thing to the ground.

Wynonna moved quickly, with some risk. Not quite waiting for someone’s line of view to be away from her person before moving between one obstructive structure to the next. Nicole found it incredibly frustrating. If they’d just taken the friggin’ tunnels, they wouldn’t have to worry about being—

“What was that?”

—caught.

“It’s the Eden sheriff! Get her!”

If so many people hadn’t popped out of nowhere at once, Nicole would’ve happily taken an extended moment to curse out Wynonna for this terrible approach to this terrible plan. But _ no, _cultists moved like friggin’ marathoners with fists of protein powder coursing through their systems!

The duo fell behind a lousy looking crate. Wasn’t going to hold. Not with people shooting at them and so many more running over with handmade tools posing as weapons. 

Wynonna, looking to Nicole for help like a kitten who’d gotten into a very, very, very stupid situation. “What now, Haught?”

_ I shoot you in the face! _ was Nicole’s initial thought, but such a thing would lend them no help in the matter. Instead she poked her head out of cover, swiveled the stupid panicking thing around, and darted eyes already darting on their own, searching desperately as gunfire rained upon them and cultists mockingly cheered. Why the _ hell _ did she agree to this?

Nicole swapped her pistol for the rifle on her shoulder, as her eyes fell on an opening. Nobody swarming. Giant shrines to hide behind and shoot from, safely. It was the perfect corner. Could buy some time before the next move. 

“You’d better make good on your promise of shooting anything that moves in here.”

Wynonna smiled at her, in a fashion best identified with _ evil. _ “I keep all my promises, Haught.”

“Cool. In three we run for those statues. Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

One.

Two.

Three.

They sprinted, various bullets, arrows, chucked debris, and armed, charging maniacs chasing them.

-

Shortly after serious discussions of Lonnie being switched over to farming duty broke out, each word heated to the hottest possible temperature, Nedley took Dolls and Waverly to Michelle’s old office. Untouched for three months. Because Michelle Gibson hadn’t been warden in three months.

There were a million maps and plans in her old desk. Months poured into risky missions, sending scouts to map out the Cult of Bulshar’s camp. Several more months, weeks, hours, minutes, very _ seconds _ poured into planning full-scale invasions people were never on board with. The cult wasn’t big enough. They weren’t enough of a bother. They weren’t worth diverting numbers from the prison and welcoming other threats for.

Michelle was killed by the people deemed not threatening enough to do so. Why did she go on that picnic? Why did she sit in the middle of the open field, with her granddaughter, alone and vulnerable? Did she believe it, too? Did she really think the cult wasn’t worth the effort, too? After she spent so long trying to take them down?

_ Love blinds us, _ Waverly thought. Michelle had gotten her family back. Spending every second with them. Taking her granddaughter out for a picnic thought otherwise harmless.

As Dolls examined the maps and discussed information of the area with Nedley, who offered what little he knew himself, Waverly kept poking around. Surely there was something in one of these drawers to wake her from this horrid dream, and surely her idiot wife and her idiot sister didn’t really team up on a super secret super stupid mission to—

There was a letter addressed to her. From Michelle.

Dolls was busy. Michelle never mentioned anything about this. She shouldn’t—

She _ did. _

Waverly opened the envelope it was encased in and _ read. _Stopping only after Dolls had to physically shake her, because what was enclosed in the handwritten piece was nothing she expected.

Bobo Del Rey, all those years ago, told her about her parents. Terrible criminals with no souls. Michelle ran this prison to keep them locked away and keep the world safe from their crimes. It was the last conversation they ever had. 

Waverly was not Ward’s, this was true. But she was Michelle’s. Michelle and another man. A man far greater than Ward Earp, killed by a gang led by none other than the Clootie family. 

The law was catching up to Bulshar. He staged a burning of his home, which would destroy a gathering of anything and everything against him, fake his death, and start anew. The law could not act without proof, and the law could not act on a dead man. Unfortunately for him, Waverly’s father was a firefighter. Evidence lived. Bulshar was convicted. But not before Julian was severely wounded. 

Michelle was revenge-bound. Charming her way into a job at a new prison to personally see to it Bulshar was locked away from the world. Not Waverly’s parents. The _ enemy _ of her parents.

Bobo Del Rey, who, all those years ago, would never tell a lie to Waverly Earp, told a lie to Waverly Earp for the first time. In his final, timed moments, he lied for the first time.

Waverly laughed.

“The things we do when we’re desperate,” she said to herself.

Laughter died. _ The things we do. _Such as lying to spouses about what medical miracles their body may or may not hold. Lives they may or may not be able to save with said miracles.

She and Bobo _ were _ kin, at least. Lying, thieving kin, betraying their own family for their own gain. 

-

Concern was out the window. Nicole wasn’t concerned for Wynonna. She was _ horrified. _

Horrified, as Wynonna took every possible opportunity and every second they didn’t have to strangle every single cultist they passed.

The pair managed to get away for now, with the entire camp on high alert. Searching every crevice for them. They needed to _ move. _

“We need to go through the tunnels,” Nicole suggested, over someone’s muffled choking. “Sneaking around’s going to get us killed.”

Wynonna finally snapped the guy’s neck. Watching him, as he fell fully to the ground. “I’m not wasting time running away. We’re ending the asshole and leaving.”

“It’s us against—”

Wynonna spun around. Stepping into Nicole’s space. “If you want to run, that’s on you, Haught. I came here to finish this.”

Nicole grabbed her before she could turn around again and storm off. Roughly, by the shirt. “If you get yourself killed, Waverly will never forgive herself. Or you.”

“That’s on her.” Wynonna smacked Nicole’s hand off. “I’m doing this for her.”

“You’re doing this for _ you _.”

“I’m doing this for—”

They threw themselves behind cover, as a pair of patrols wandered by. Then Wynonna was off, trying to kill them both by herself. Nicole had no choice but to join in before she so stupidly got the both of them caught. Again.

As Nicole, with far less excitement, wrapped her right arm around this person’s throat and slapped her left hand over their mouth, she paused to think. Of course this was worth it. Right? This was for her people. For her family. So Rosita wouldn’t have to push herself every day, making new chemical weapons for them with what little resources she had. So Jeremy didn’t spend every moment stressed and regretful about what materials he’d wasted on the last salvage raid, trying to make new tech. Dolls wouldn’t go raid strange bandit populations before they could spread and overwhelm Eden. Waverly wanted a _ family _.

Above most, she wanted the angry doofus she was traveling with to get some closure. The doofus she was sure came here to die. Was sure to get Nicole dead, too.

Then where would they be? Where would the settlement be? Where would _ Waverly _ be, if they both died here, in this camp? How would this be worth it, if they both died?

Wynonna kept moving. Nicole had to silence her thoughts and follow.

“There,” Wynonna whispered, pointing across the way where the winding walls had ceased and evened out. “There’s that fucking cabin.”

There were absolutely no patrols in the area. Not even a rat, sneaking in discarded trash.

“Guess the idiots are all bunched up in the front, looking for us.”

“Guess so.” Nicole didn’t like this.

“Let’s sneak in through the back. We can find that stupid entrance you won’t stop asking about. Shoot him, throw a Molotov through the window, and run away. Sound good?”

“Huh? Yeah, fine.”

They simply walked over to the cabin. They _ walked over _ to the Clootie family's home, unguarded and unwatched, not a single bullet shot and not a single eye looking on them. 

They weren’t here. No, they couldn’t be here. They probably left through the tunnels. This was too easy. 

“Change of plans,” Wynonna whispered again. “Molotov first. I’ll shoot the asshole when he runs out with his ass on fire.”

Because it was too quiet. Because there was no one inside and Wynonna knew it, because Clootie was hiding somewhere.

She opened the back door. Stepped inside. _ Listened. _ Not a peep. Not a creak of the wood, because even the old wood knew something strange was afoot. Wynonna emptied a full flask of alcohol into a small glass bottle, one of many discarded about. Messy. The cultists were messy.

But she never got to throw it. In fact, she barely got to pour the flask out before she was spilling it all over the ground. Several warning shots fired behind them.

Behind them, several people were emerging from an old tunnel entrance.

Behind them, several cultists and several Clooties.

-

“Stop here.”

“It’s quiet, Dolls. Why is it quiet?”

Dolls sighed. His hands shaky on his flamethrower. “I don’t know.”

He dismounted Sheriff Haught’s horse, the sheriff’s wife slow to do the same. Six more horses with carriages behind them, waiting for Dolls’s command in place of their missing leader. Dolls had done raids before. Taken small teams out of Eden before, to go after tiny bandit camps in the area. _ Tiny _ bandit camps. Absolutely nothing the size of the Cult of Bulshar’s. This was something entirely different. Something entirely terrifying. The fact his kinda-maybe fiancé was inside and someone he saw as a sister was with her didn’t change things for the better. He was a soldier. He was supposed to be cool in these situations. 

Then again, he’d sworn off that life a long time ago.

Dolls stroked the ring hanging around his neck.

“Waverly Earp-Haught, Jeremy Chetri, and Rosita Bustillos—join me. I need the rest of you to wait five minutes, then charge into the camp.”

Waverly Earp-Haught, Jeremy Chetri, and Rosita Bustillos joined Xavier Dolls. Team Earp, on one last ride. 

They headed right for the side entrance of the tunnels. The intention was to find Wynonna and Nicole before something bad happened.

-

Something bad happened.

Something very, very, very not-good, super bad happened.

They were surrounded. They were being ambushed.

They were going to _ die _.

Only Nicole cared for this detail, as her partner grit her teeth and snarled, eyeing the enemy before her, “Bulshar.” A deep hatred ripping from her very lungs, extending from the earth far, far below. Wynonna Earp _ hated _ Bulshar Clootie.

He killed her mother. He killed her daughter. He was going to take the rest of her home and the rest of her family next. She_ hated _him.

He laughed, like they were old friends, like this was some reunion and they were going to laugh and have a beer and talk about the old days. “Michelle Earp’s daughter and the sheriff. How lucky am I, to have such stupid company.”

“She goes by Gibson now,” Wynonna snarled again. Respect the dead, and all that.

“You mean she _ went _ by Gibson.”

If Nicole hadn’t grabbed Wynonna by the belt, the suicidal idiot would’ve fully charged at the man. The man in charge—because that always ended well in the movies.

“Why have you come here?” Bulshar asked, shifting in his coat much too warm for mid-Spring, a wide-brimmed hat protecting his face from the sun. “Why have you come to my home, unannounced?”

Nicole spoke, before Wynonna could deliver her threats and make everything harder, “We just want to talk.” And not die. Definitely maybe not die.

“That’s bullshit,” Wynonna snarled again. “We’re here to kill you and put an end to this.”

Without warning, and too fast for Nicole to stop, Wynonna raised and aimed Peacemaker.

“Get fucked, you bald-headed shit weasel.”

The bullet was aimed perfectly for Bulshar—should’ve hit him no problem. Until a problem presented itself: Constance Clootie, the first of his three wives, pushed wife number two—or three, both women’s faces were completely covered—directly in the way. Then number three when Wynonna shot again. She didn’t look especially sad about it. In truth, neither did Bulshar.

Bullet three never left. Bulshar’s forces were quick to restrain both Nicole and her fireball teammate.

“Let us go, you coward!” Wynonna spat, and Bulshar laughed in amusement. “Only a loser uses a firing squad!”

“Oh,” he laughed again, two friends catching up after a long winter, “I’m not planning on killing you. No, I need you both. The sheriff and her patrol routes. You, Miss Earp, and your connection to the final member of your family. Oh no, you two are going to stay a while. Our special guests, here to give us—”

A man with a decorative cane and a second with a bandana on his head interrupted the scene. Intruders outside, on horseback. Armed. Just sitting there, looking at the camp.

Bulshar turned his attention away for a moment. One moment, enough for Wynonna and Nicole to jump at the opportunity to make their huge, epic escape. Obviously those intruders and potential threats were from the prison, here to get their missing sheriff and their missing town joke. 

They’d run for the tunnel entrance behind Bulshar, and keep running until they hit backup. There were people down there already. Nicole could feel it in her gut.

Unfortunately, things didn’t quite go according to plan, because they never went according to plan. Not before, when things were simpler and an extended day at the office ruined dinner, and certainly not now, with the diseased mocking the undead and people acting like it was the end of the world or something.

Wynonna was tackled and pinned to the ground. Nicole was shot in the leg. Nicole was close to the tunnels. Nicole lost her balance and fell right in, missing every single one of the hanging ropes and plunging far deeper than she anticipated.

She hit her head before she hit the ground. Wasn’t conscious to learn whether she actually _ hit _ the ground or not.

-

The gunshots above started after exactly four minutes. Not the five Dolls specifically asked for.

Waverly didn’t care as much as he did. She led her old team as they sprinted through manmade routes, carved by hand and definitely by explosive. Gunshots meant the pot was stirred. The pot her sister and her wife were spinning violently in.

She could feel it. Something was wrong. _ Wrong. _ Something happened.

Turning that final corner, finding her wife, unconscious on the ground, Wavery felt her stomach plunge into a chasm deeper than this.

“Nicole!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the rocks h i t
> 
> Thank you for reading chapter two of this short little sequel. We're nearly at the end already! Now, I did write both this chapter and the next at the same time, hence the long delay (that and this chapter simply wasn't working with me and didn't want to be written). Chapter three needs one more read through, then it'll be up. Likely sometime next week.
> 
> Chapter title is from [Through the Valley](https://open.spotify.com/track/2MM8qDOkfV1natcOHC5kER?si=FJBBMBNFREiGR95pnI7qlw) by Shawn James. Used in the first reveal trailer for The Last of Us Part II.


	3. Gone, But Not Forgotten

“I am not a vile man.”

The vile man said, keeping Wynonna in a prison cell that functioned like an actual prison cell.

“I am simply doing what needs to be done. Not just for my family. Not just for my people. For the _ world.” _

Wynonna rolled her eyes with little effort. “Right. You’re the fucking hero we all need. Thank God we have Batman here, in the flesh, solving—”

“You mock,” Bulshar frowned, grabbing the fenced gate between them, “but I speak the truth. My life is more precious than you or any one of your ‘officers’ in that prison. Especially Michelle Earp.”

“Gibson. What _ is _ your beef with my mom? She reject your bald ass in high school or something?”

Bulshar laughed. Old friends, reunion. “I doubt your mother finished high school.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s still way smarter than you. Doesn’t have an ego big enough to make her think she’s a god when she’s very clearly not one.”

He let go of the fence. Turned away, entirely. Mumbling, “No, but she’ll try to stop one.”

“Speak up, cheese head. Swiss cheese. Get it? Because I’m going to blow a bunch of holes in your stupid head?”

Her comedy was ignored, the way Bulshar turned again with a blank expression. Critic. “Your little sister has a different father. Are you aware of that?”

Roll of the eyes. “I don’t care who she is related to. She’s _ my _ sister.”

“Do you know her father?”

Wynonna shook her head. “I don’t care.”

“You should care,” Bulshar spat back, stepping closer to the fence again. Wynonna wished she could reach her hands through and strangle him. “He was my best man.”

“Which time? Sorry about your wives, by the way. Wait no, I’m not. Yeah, not really.”

“They were pests from beginning to end.” He turned away, before turning back on her again, like he couldn’t decide where the hell to look. “His name was Julian, and he was a traitor.”

Roll of the eyes. “Yeah, that’s a real tear-jerker. Best villain origin story. Congrats. What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

He continued, as if never interrupted. “I built this crew from the ground up. We are survivors, from the very prison you sleep in. The very prison your mother failed to keep secure, when she allowed a sick guard to work. Do you know what he was sick with?”

Wynonna was quiet. There was really only one thing people seemed to get sick with.

“He turned in the middle of his shift and spread his disease like wildfire. Michelle had him, but she did not shoot him. She _ ran _ , and left her prisoners to _ die. _ She only returned, years later, when she had nowhere else to go; she returned for her own personal gain. She returned after she failed yet another people she was responsible for.”

Wynonna was quiet. Never, _ ever _ listen to the villain with a monologue. “You’re just trying to get under my skin.”

Bulshar ignored her once again in favor of his story. “I escaped here, to my cabin, with select inmates. Constance, for one. I led them out of the prison, and they appointed me their new leader.”

“Congrats.”

“We survived, and we kept surviving. We kept growing. I gained more followers—”

“Too bad you couldn’t stick to Instagram. I mean, right?”

“—one of whom was your little sister’s father. Michelle Earp’s accomplice. The prison was too dangerous for him to enter. He’d traveled all this way, from Purgatory, on foot, by himself, to find her.”

At that, Wynonna sat up. Interest piqued. “He lived in Purgatory, or was he visiting?”

Bulshar laughed, as fully and evil as he could manage. “Michelle left your sister. Julian stayed. But your father would not let him anywhere near your family. You can thank Michelle’s dishonesty. He arrived at your homestead, to find nobody was home. So he moved on.”

“Okay, wait. That doesn’t make any sense. Bobo Del Rey said Mama left Purgatory to watch over an inmate. Bobo’s cousin; Waverly’s father. You’re lying.”

“Michelle did not leave Purgatory to watch over Julian, you fool, she left to watch over me! The Clooties and the Earps have been at each other’s throats for decades, don’t you know this?”

Shake of the head. “Ward was too drunk to mention anything like that.”

“The Clooties and Earps, an endless cycle; Earps the ‘greater good’ and us the ‘lesser evil’. A rulebook determined by the Earps.”

Another shake of the head. “Nada.”

Bulshar looked annoyed. “I suppose that is why Michelle took care of our feud, rather than the sheriff.”

“Nobody said he was a great sheriff.”

“Clearly.” Continuing, “Julian was in our ranks for many years. Then Michelle returned to the prison. He’d watched her with his own eyes, from one of our scouting towers. Do you know what happened when he approached the prison?”

“He made out with his old girlfriend and broke your bro-heart?”

“He was shot and killed the moment he stepped foot on the premises. Do you know by whom?”

“You, probably.”

Bulshar was the one shaking his head now. “No. He was shot by Michelle.”

Wynonna eyed him. As hatefully as she could manage. “I’m sure that’s not true. You’re just trying to piss me off.”

“He gave everything to help our people. Outcasts, who weren’t accepted by the standards of people like Michelle. The weak, who could not stand on their own. That is what we did here. Do you understand now, Wynonna? Do you understand why Michelle Earp, a woman who would be mistaken enough to murder her own love, was not deserving of her throne? Why _ none _ of you are deserving of your thrones? It is because you are _ shallow.” _

“I think the part where you slaughtered an innocent three-year-old girl is keeping me from feeling sorry for you in any capacity.”

He shrugged, like such a detail was absolutely nothing. “A simple casualty of war.”

Wynonna kicked the gate, so hard Bulshar jumped back in frightened defense. "I _ understand _ you’re full of shit, and nothing else. Whatever you’re trying to sell me, I’m not buying it. You can take that and smear it on your hairless scalp.”

Bulshar frowned. “Just as stubborn as the woman before you. Very well. I will do away with you, _ after _we slaughter your friends and your sister. Enjoy your ignorance.”

Wynonna kicked the gate again. “Swiss cheese!”

-

“ . . . and then I fell right through the tunnel, hit my head, and here we are.”

As gunshots and various degrees of explosions boomed above, Waverly angrily swabbed at the huge cut on Nicole’s temple. So aggressively Nicole hissed in pain.

“I didn’t mean to betray your trust, Waverly.”

Waverly was quiet. Focused on what she was doing, maybe. But probably not.

“I knew we should’ve taken the stupid tunnels.”

“Or maybe you shouldn’t have done it at all.” Waverly spoke so loud, Nicole flinched. “Did you think about that? _ Not _ doing something stupid enough to get you killed and scare the life out of the rest of us? Did you consider that, Nicole?”

Several times. Nicole grabbed Waverly’s frantic hands before she could deepen the wound with her pure, untethered anger. “I’m sorry.” Then she was pulling Waverly fully, into a hug. Whispering, “I’m sorry.”

Waverly did not answer. Not even after they parted.

“I just—The Cult, and how they—Things are getting worse, and—I-I love you, and you want to start a family and have a son, and I can’t let us raise a family in a home that isn’t safe, and I—I freaked out, Waverly. That raid—they almost broke through the gate. That’s on me. If we start a family and anything happens, I—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Waverly was finding it difficult to break her tough composure.

“I’m _ sorry, _ Waverly.”

Waverly just stared at her. The other members of the team, across the way, watched the exits, trying not to eavesdrop or peek over.

“Please say something.”

Suddenly Waverly’s eyes were . . . watering?

“Wave—”

“Damn it—Nicole, I have to tell you something.”

“Um, you—”

“I lied. I lied about everything. And you could’ve died without knowing, and I—”

“Wait, wait, Wave, slow down. Is this about Jackson? What’re you—”

“The Fireflies, Nicole. I lied about the Fireflies! They were still looking for a cure—we stole you from them!”

Nicole looked at her, in a way Waverly hoped Nicole Haught would never look at her. “The F—That was five years ago.”

Waverly nodded.

“You’ve been lying to me for five years?”

There were full tears now. “I’m sorry. And then you left and I was afraid—I didn’t want—I can’t keep lying to you. I can’t keep doing this. You can’t _ not _ know, and—”

“We should get going.” Nicole stood. Looking away. “We should, um, we should go find Wynonna.”

-

There was only one other person in the world Wynonna disliked with the greatest of hatreds. He left the night Alice was born. He agreed to be cool about everything. About the fact they shared a child, and nothing else, because Wynonna was supposed to be dedicated to Dolls, who wasn’t as dead as everything thought he was or as dead as her dumb drunken ass thought he was. He took one look at Alice. That was it. Then he rode off on his horse, joined a cult, reunited with his estranged wife, and no one ever saw him again.

Wynonna didn’t much like traitors. And this was the most traitor-y move of them all.

So, when she saw him and his stupid, bushy mustache waltzing over with a stupid smile from his stupid lips, she could do nothing more than kick the gate like a caged, feral animal. Maybe she _ was _ a caged, feral animal.

“This ain’t quite what we had planned for this place,” he said, stopping just before her and totally ignoring all the dirty looks she was throwing his way, “but it will do. Wynonna Earp, your fire will never cease to amaze me.”

“You’re a shithead in bad need of a haircut.”

Doc seemed to smile wider, his greasy hair shining under the dim light of this thrown-together imprisonment block. “I did miss you, Wynonna.”

She had no time to curse him out before he was opening the gate and handing over her gun and gunbelt.

“May we ride together again?” Waving the belt, waiting for her stubborn hands to react in a way to his favor.

They both flipped him off.

“Damn it woman, I am tryin’ to help you! Take the gun and let’s get out of here.”

“No! How do I know this isn’t a trap? How do I know this isn’t a trick by Culty Doc? I don’t even _ know _ Culty Doc! He could be a soap fetishist for all I know!”

“Wynonna!”

“What the hell is going on here?” 

A new figure entered this declining conversation, the one speeding down a hill and falling down a chasm faster than a six-foot woman who’d just been shot. She was well dressed, by apocalypse standards. Old world standards, too. Purple lipstick—wherever the hell she managed to find that—and a tall afro she totally rocked.

Had to be the wife of John Henry. 

“We need to go!” she said again, waving the hand that wasn’t holding one of Doc’s precious pistols. “What’s taking you two so long?”

Doc pointed at Wynonna like they were five-year-olds in trouble. If anything _ he _ was the one in trouble. She was a simple, innocent bystander.

Kate Elder, piecing everything together, rolled her eyes. “The people of Eden are attacking the camp. We need to find Bulshar.”

Wynonna did not move. “To do what? Sacrifice me to whatever reptile god you weirdos follow?”

Kate was already off. Doc was shoving the gunbelt and Peacemaker into Wynonna’s hands. Smiling again. “To kill him.”

Wynonna stood a little straighter.

“But we can not let him get away, now.”

Suddenly, Wynonna was off. Following Kate at a brisk pace. “We _ won’t _ let him get away.”

Breaking into the battlefield, Doc was aware he had explaining to do. Why he left. Why he was against Bulshar when he was a member of the cult. Why Kate seemed to keen to betray Bulshar, as well.

They were in and out of cover. Fellow cultists who’d clearly been on to them to begin with, happily taking the opportunity to shoot at them. Eden invaders who didn’t know the difference between real cultists and fake cultists with much bigger plans, who only stopped shooting once Wynonna walked across the battlefield and sometimes literally slapped them across their faces.

Headed back to the Clooties’s cabin, where, hopefully, Bulshar hadn’t begun the process of running for the hills already. Wynonna didn’t bother to wonder whether Nicole was okay. Alive. She _ knew _ Nicole was okay. One of her officers found her in the tunnels, she just knew it.

Once again, Wynonna entered the cabin to find it empty. Completely empty, save for the lifeless bodies of the faceless wives Constance was happy to part with. Kate didn’t seem all that surprised by it. Doc didn’t seem to care.

“So,” Wynonna impatiently pushed, “where the hell is he? Where did he go?”

“I’m working on it.” Kate dumped a whole bag of cards onto a table. Shuffling them into neat piles. “I’m working on it.”

Great, they were going to play Poker: Magic Edition. Or was Bulshar going to come running at the chance to play? Like a dog with a ball?

Meanwhile Doc was taking the time to smile his creepy smile at her again and tell her how nice it was to see her. “It has been a long time,” he added, like leaving wasn’t his choice in the first place.

“Well, we send you mail all the time, but you never answer. What’s the deal?”

“I know you are mad with me, Wynonna.”

She burst into laughter. What a stupidly simple thing to say.

“I did this for baby Alice.”

The laughter died. “You don’t get to talk about Alice. You abandoned her, you asshole. For the same people who would kill her, three years later. How’s that irony for ya?”

“I did this to keep her safe. I would have never imagined—I am sorry, Wynonna.”

“Joining a cult keeps her safe? What, are you going to pray the world into a better place? You planning on sacrificing people into making the world a better—”

“Kate approached me. She snuck onto our grounds, at the prison, shortly after Mister Dolls was returned. She had big plans and no help. She used to have someone helpin’ her, someone you may know—”

“Yeah, Julian, I heard. He was a freakin’ angel and all that, right?”

“That he was. That he was.”

“And what sort of undercover work was so important? Humor me. Fucking humor me, Doc, because it must’ve been real important for you to leave overnight the way you did, without a word.”

“Kate helps people who want out of the cult. She sneaks them over to the prison. Helps them get rid of the brand they are given, sets them up with a new life and all the information they need to enter. You know your mother had many tests to allow people in—not just anyone is allowed to live in Eden. The exception of her daughters and their friends, of course.”

“She doesn’t need to stay at the cult to do that. Neither do you.”

“Yes we do. Most importantly, we needed to stay here to sabotage Bulshar. Sabotage his attack plans, take down the more dangerous people, when everyone else was distracted.”

“You’re a real hero, John Henry.” Rolling her eyes, “A regular Doc Holliday.”

“I want to make the area safer, Wynonna. For everyone. This was the only way I knew how. Eden—they weren’t doin’ a thing about this place or these people. Eden only protects their own territory.”

Wynonna exhaled, because she’d come to gather the exact same point of view. And, if Bulshar’s story was to be believed, she had proof of it now.

“And, carefully, one day, down the line, we were tryin’ to lead Bulshar right to y’all. Right into your hands. But the man never leaves! I mean, for God’s sake—”

Kate jumped to her feet. “He left!”

And then the three, collectively, were jumping again when the back door burst open. Four people pointing their guns.

Four people lowering their guns.

Wynonna running over, wrapping the person in front in a giant hug.

“Haught, you stupid idiot, don’t do anything like that again.”

Nicole did not reciprocate, but Wynonna did not take the hint. She didn’t even return with her own sarcasm, as she always seemed to. Whatever. Nicole was alive. Who cares?

All Nicole had to offer was a question. “Where’s Bulshar?”

Before Wynonna could try to make fun of Kate for using actual _ cards _ to make that guess, Kate was out the door and heading for the ropes leading into the tunnels. Telling everyone to follow her. Doc passed by his own team and tipped his hat to them like everything was right between them, and dutifully followed his wife. Dolls made a face. Jeremy itched at the ghost of the copycat mustache he once had. Rosita simply shrugged.

Nicole followed without a word. Waverly did not seem as enthusiastic to see Wynonna as she’d anticipated. Or angry. She was definitely expecting a lecture of some sort. But, nothing. The most she did was give Wynonna a welcome back hug and walk with the rest of the group. Nicole, walking faster and limping a lot less than Wynonna imagined she would be; gunshot must’ve been a minor graze.

Nicole, walking without Waverly by her side.

“You told her.”

Waverly immediately darted around. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? What is this marriage if I’m lying to her?”

“Yeah, okay, but I was angry and drunk, so—”

“Let’s just go, okay? One thing at a time.”

-

Back to the horses. Most from Eden’s stables, one from the Cult of Bulshar’s. Originally from Eden; Doc’s steed, Colt. Named after his guns. The only thing he loved more than his mustache. Or Kate. Or the concept of playing the hero.

Nicole was riding with Wynonna. Not Waverly. Meaning Waverly actually, really did, for real tell Nicole what happened with the Fireflies all those years ago. The fact they all lied about it to her. Told her the organization was no longer looking for a cure, which she held the secret to. The answer, to restoring the world to what it was.

“That lie is my fault, Haught. She wanted to tell you the second you woke up, but I stopped her. I talked first.”

Nicole did not respond.

“Haught, don’t be mad at Waverly. She loves you. She only—”

“How much further, Henry?” Right over Wynonna. Like she wasn’t talking at all.

This was no good.

Nicole wasn’t silent with people when she was mad with them. She was silent when she was disappointed in them.

“Nearly there!” Doc answered, following the whispers from his own wife.

Ahead was a small town. Buildings collapsed on one another. Cars, abandoned, not started or even looked at for over a decade now. Just sitting there, rotting. Nature having its revenge for decades of abusive pollution.

Down the street, ripping into the silence of it all, was a horse.

Ripping into the noise of the beast: Infected. Not a sizable crowd, but big enough to address an issue.

Wynonna laughed at the concept; she hated one of her fellow humans far more than those things. She was actually disappointed to be opening fire, with the rest of her team, Rosita’s experimental bombs flying through the air, on something that wasn’t a human person. What a world they were stuck in, hating their own kind. 

Behind the dead horse Bulshar had attempted to escape on was an open building. One of the larger ones in the area, helpfully marked in bright red paint, _ INFECTED INSIDE: DO NOT ENTER. _

They entered. Inside were no Infected. Those who were, were now dead outside with the horse they’d maimed. There was absolutely nothing inside, until they’d found the basement entrance. Stairs were broken. Spores were sparkling out and up, twinkling in the gleam of multiple flashlights.

Dolls left to grab gas masks. No one was inhaling anything today, and no one was getting infected today. Nicole, immune to the Cordyceps virus that brought their world to its knees, went ahead. No need for her to wear a mask. What was she going to do, get infected?

Hiding, cowering in a corner of a room, was Bulshar. Alone.

There was nothing on his face. He was completely calm about that fact.

Nicole realized it the same as him. Two humans eyeing one another. Two humans piecing it together, figuring out a puzzle without blowing each other’s brains out. 

Two humans, immune.

Bulshar, realizing he wasn’t as special as he thought. He was not a God.

The sound of the others rushing over broke them both from their trances. Bulshar, faster than Nicole, fast enough to throw a desk over and sprint another direction. Screeching was heard across the way. There were more Infected hiding in this basement. 

She rushed out of the room before the miserable groans of a Stage 2, a Stalker, and the clicking of a Stage 3 “Clicker” could drown her out. One half of humanity’s potential cure, snuffed out—maybe not what the world needed.

Nicole wondered how many more people in the world were immune and didn’t even know it.

“Haught, what’s the situation?”

Dolls. She snapped out of it. “Keep someone on the exit. Bulshar’s in here. He alerted Infected to us.”

“Rosita’s got the exit covered. How many are there?”

“Not really sure. But I saw Stalkers and Clickers, maybe two of each.”

“Okay. Let’s handle this quickly and find him.”

She neglected to mention the fact Bulshar was maskless, just like her. Immune, just like her. The reason he saw himself as a god and probably the reason so many people saw him as one.

Dolls, Jeremy, and Jeremy’s newly-completed crossbow went down the hall. Doc and Kate, to the rooms on the left. Earps and Haught, on the right. The quietest group of the three, by far.

The gunshots that erupted from Doc’s side ruined the quiet approach Wynonna and everyone else was taking. Her knife was inches away from plunging into a Clicker’s unsuspecting throat. It croaked and knocked her over with an overwhelming force, before Waverly managed to shoot it onto its ass the same. Nicole shot the Stalker running behind Waverly, who jumped at the sound and the fact the bullet flew right behind her.

“Thank you,” she said.

Nicole didn’t have much to offer. “Nice shot.” 

Then she was helping Wynonna off the ground and they were shooting the next wave of Infected down. Two Stalkers, easily taken down with a couple pistol and revolver bullets. A few bullets wasted, given the class was erratic and never seemed to run in a simple, straight line. Why couldn’t they make it easy?

A second Clicker was downed by the power of Waverly’s shotgun. Nicole hated Waverly had to see and hear the thing. She hadn’t seen nor heard it in five years. She wasn’t supposed to ever hear it again and yet—

A Stalker rushed Nicole and tackled her to the ground as she freely moped at the worst possible opportunity. Like even the diseased monster wanted her whiny brain to shut up for a few seconds.

Nicole punched it, and it punched back. Trying to bite at her arm, or anywhere really. Just destroy her—that was the goal.

Stupid bastard; she could not get infected.

Waverly shot the stupid bastard through the back of the head. Nicole throwing the remains of what used to be a human man right off of her. Looking up at Waverly in the darkness of the basement.

“Thank you.”

Right away, Waverly helped her off the ground. “Are you okay? Any bites? Did you get hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

The weird silence that followed quickly turned into relief: the basement was silent. No more Infected. 

Somewhere in the middle, Doc’s gun went off again and ruined everything. Warning shot. Nothing followed. Then Dolls was calling everyone towards the far back corner from the entrance, where the team found Bulshar, cornered and pacified by an out-of-shape flamethrower and a newly restored crossbow.

He was sat next to two dead bodies. Bites all over both, one of their chests ripped right open. Bullet hole going completely through the other’s head. The team members who weren’t running with Bulshar’s cult didn’t know what to think of it. Just two dead guys. The one member who did was rolling his eyes. His wife, holding no sympathy.

“My children,” Bulshar said. Quietly. Somberly. “I could not save him. They were not like me.”

He looked up, eyeing Nicole.

A disappointed twist to his tone, “Not like _ us.” _

The flamethrower and the crossbow lowered. The Buntline Special did not. In fact, its user stepped closer, to clarify, in disbelief, “You’re immune?”

“It seems I am not the only one.” Bulshar sounded genuinely disappointed. He was a God no longer.

He was never a God to begin with.

Wynonna’s finger fidgeted unsurely on the trigger. Bulshar was not looking at her. Her team waited patiently.

Suddenly she retreated. Grabbed Nicole’s spare rifle right off her shoulder. Walked back and knocked Bulshar unconscious.

Wynonna Earp was not going to go through with it. She was not going to kill Bulshar Clootie today.

No, she was putting his “Godliness” to work. She was going to use him to restore the world to what her daughter should have grown up in. A place of safety. A place where infected monsters didn’t run amuck and power-hungry cults didn’t rise to claim things that weren’t theirs in the first place, for a false sense of justice.

Where people didn’t pretend they were gods because of their fucking immune system. 

-

Constance Clootie did not stick around the camp. No one stopped her, either, as she took one of the cult’s horses and rode off slowly. Her sons were taken by the infection. Her husband, the cure, was out of power. There was nothing for her here. There was nothing in the world for her other than a fresh start.

Doc was the only one shooting after the battlefield went silent. A final execution of a specific crew worth executing. 

“You took my daughter from me,” he told them. “You went against my wishes and tried to steal her from her home, and from her mother. You killed her and her grandmother, whilst they were out on a picnic. You stole my three-year-old daughter from me. For this, for your misguided idea of what I want and your _ piss _ aim, I will take your life. I will take your life, for the lives you have taken.”

There were several curses following. Worshippers, who believed Doc to be above them, on par with their leader. Learning their idol wasn’t who they wanted. Couldn’t bring himself to appreciate what they tried to do for him. How they hiked all the way over to the prison, day after day, and tried to bring him back the daughter he missed so dearly.

Doc was not sad to see them go. From a distance, Wynonna watched. Quietly.

-

They were instantly swarmed the second they stepped foot back into Eden. Paparazzi, without the cameras and the flashes of their photos. Asking how Nicole could abandon them without a word. Why the hell she’d follow the town drunk. She denied every pitch to raid the camp, and here she was, doing it herself because it was suddenly important to her. 

Jackson’s foster father, the only person not upset. He understood. He understood the sudden urge. He even _ smiled _ at Nicole.

The whole town shut right up when they saw Bulshar Clootie, in person, handcuffed, walking through their home. Some called for his death. Others asked how leadership could be stupid enough to let him into their safe realm.

So Nicole turned to them. “The Cult of Bulshar is no more. What we did in the camp is confidential. Return to your work shifts.”

-

The transition was strange. Believing the cult and their were camp salvaged and destroyed, completely vacant now, was strange. Even stranger was having some of its former members running about.

The most popular of the new crowd were Doc and Kate. Doc, a former resident. Kate, the one he left for. In the hopes of pulling the cult apart. The thought made him laugh; all he had to do was pull a Wynonna and stage a huge scene. What the hell was he thinking, doing secret work and careful planning?

But the _ strangest _ of all was the new notion Kate proposed. And the fact it was approved. 

A good fraction of the former cult’s members were people with nowhere else to go. People turned away from the prison by old leadership. People current leadership wasn’t aware were being turned away. Many, mistaken as bandits.

Eden was to be opened as a trading post. An external unit, made from the wood remodeled from the old camp, would be added for overnight housing. Eden would gain new goods and sell its excess. Open itself up to the world, instead of acting like an exclusive club. Instead of making some angry enough to start a cult with a deep seeded hatred for them.

It was time for humanity to stop acting closed off, and start acting as humans again. Helping their brethren, rather than turn them away. 

-

Nicole inspected the carrier with unease, as Waverly held Wynonna in a hug so long Wynonna was finding it difficult not to be annoyed. It would only be for a short while. It was a simple trip.

The man inside the wooden box stared at Nicole. A tiny bit hatefully. A huge bit confused. He was supposed to be unique. She was not supposed to be able to do what he could do.

She turned back to the Earp sisters, Wynonna finally pushing her little sister completely off of her. And then kissing her forehead, because, damn it, she would miss that face. 

Ever since Wynonna announced her big trip, they were joined at the hip. Just like they used to be. Wynonna, finally in a place to discuss Alice. Waverly, finally earning some closure on her parents. Bobo lied, but so did Michelle. Michelle, who was responsible for Julian’s death and blamed it on someone else. Michelle, who ran an uptight prison unwelcoming to travelers. Parents never seemed to be as perfect as she wanted them to be.

On the bright side, everything was about to change for the better. 

“Are you sure about this, Wynonna?” Nicole asked. “You’ve thought this through?”

Waverly laughed at the idea Wynonna could actually think something through. Didn’t they go on a spontaneous raid a few days ago?

Wynonna shrugged in a way that was supposed to be reassuring but was not. “It’s the higher purpose he was _ destined _ for, Nicole. He’s the Chosen One. Who am I to keep him from his destiny?”

She was taking Rosita and all of Rosita’s experiments. And a small team. Maybe she wouldn’t _ totally _ be screwed . . .

“Hey. I’ll be fine, Haught. Don’t worry.” Wynonna poked at Waverly. “And don’t _ you _ worry, either. We’ll make it to the Fireflies and back no problem. We’ve done it all before, right?”

“Still,” Nicole said again, “it only gets worse out there with time.”

“Good thing I’m god damn crazy, then.” A signal from the rest of the crew. Time to get going.

Wynonna hugged her sister one last time. Not forever, just for now. She’d be back. Wynonna always came back.

Then she hugged Nicole. Whispering, “Don’t be mad at her.”

Nicole nodded and agreed, because it was the hardest thing in the world to be mad at Waverly.

Wynonna Earp and her new crew, Rosita by her side, were off.

They rode two steps before they were stopped.

Xavier Dolls was sprinting out from the prison, shouting for them to stop. For them to wait. Wynonna jumped down from her horse’s carriage. There was a bag slung over Dolls’s shoulder.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked him. Suspicious at the small smile on his face. Yesterday they were arguing about how stupid and irresponsible this trip was.

“Room for one more?”

“What—But I thought you weren’t on board with this.”

The small smile only grew in size. “I can’t let you have all the fun, right?”

There was something in Dolls’s eyes that spoke, _ And if something happened to you . . . _

“Doc is taking my job as head of Special Forces. He’ll keep an eye on bandit camps while I’m gone.”

“Are you—Are you sure you want to do this? With _ me _?”

His hand absently fell on the necklace around his neck. His engagement ring hanging on it. “There are a lot of things I want to do with you, Wynonna Earp.”

She frowned. “But—Even after I—I _ cheated _ on you Dolls. I thought you were dead and the first thing I did was cheat on you. I had someone else’s baby. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“I don’t care. I care that I’m here, with you. I care that you’re here, alive, after everything we’ve been through. After everything _ you’ve _ been through. I just want to spend time with you, Wynonna. I _ miss _ you. And even if you never feel that way about me again, I—”

Wynonna reached for Dolls and kissed him. “I will _ always _ feel that way about you, dummy.”

He grinned, from ear to ear. “Well, alright, then. Let’s go deliver us a cure.”

“Let’s.”

-

They watched, together, as the horses pulled away from them and into the sun. A box, carrying the cure for mankind within. By not acting on her anger, Wynonna saved the future of mankind. By not acting on her own selfish needs, Wynonna secured the future of mankind.

When it was Waverly’s turn, she compromised everything. _ Everything, _ because this person she loved _ was _ everything.

This person she loved, and had now driven away. Standing quietly next to her. The child they were supposed to adopt, together, set to meet them in one hour. And here they were, the perfectly unstable home for a child.

Waverly heard Nicole exhale. She said nothing. She only stared at the sun. So Waverly stared at the sun, too.

It wasn’t until the horses were completely gone from view, the conversation began.

“Nicole—”

“I haven’t been fair to you, Waverly.”

Waverly wanted to laugh at such a lie. “Yes you have.”

“I’m a sheriff. I watch over so _ many _ people. I’ve gotten to know and love so _ many _ people. I’m about to get a son. I’m married, and I married the right girl this time.” Nicole turned to her. “I would have never gotten to be sheriff. I would have never met these people. A son—that was never a possibility with Shae. A _ marriage _wasn’t a possibility with Shae. You gave me all these things, Waverly, and I’ve been an asshole about it.”

Waverly’s eyes were tearing up again. “I lied to you. I lied to you for five years, Nicole. All of our marriage, I’ve held this horrible, horrible, _ lie, _and I’m—”

“I _ want _ to be selfish, Waverly. Bulshar got to be selfish for years, and he knew. He lived like royalty. I want a life like that, getting to do whatever I want. I want to be here, with everyone. I want to be here with you, and I want to be here with Jackson.” Nicole stroked the tattoo covering the scar on her arm, where she was initially bitten. “I can’t bring myself to be mad at you. I can’t. The past five years have been the best five years of my entire life. And you know what? I want five more. And five more after that.”

A burst of laughter erupted from Waverly. “Ten whole years? At your age?”

Nicole smiled the smile Waverly feared she’d never have the pleasure of seeing again. “Thank you for saving my life, Waverly. Thank you for keeping them from killing me. And _ me _ from killing me.”

Waverly fell serious again. “Are you sure, Nicole? Can you really forgive me for something like this? It’s _ big _, baby.”

Nicole, falling serious the same. “I’m not the only one. Look at Bulshar; I’m not the only immune person in the world. Why do I have to give up everything, when someone like Bulshar can run around, doing the things he did because he was convinced he was a god? Better than everyone else? I mean, I’m a cop, and it’s probably not cool I’m saying this, but—”

“But it’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair,” Nicole agreed.

Waverly’s hands fell on Nicole. Cupping her both her cheeks. “You deserve to have a life, Nicole. You deserve to have a life, the same way everyone here gets to.”

Nicole kissed her wife like they’d been apart for centuries. Smiling at her, so wide and so bright. “Let’s go meet our son, Waverly Earp-Haught.”

Waverly smiled back at her, wider and brighter. “Let’s go meet our son, Nicole Haught.”

Interlocking their hands, as they walked back into the prison, Nicole joked, “I’m living longer than you, by the way.”

“Yeah, no. No you’re not.”

“We’ll see who lives longer: the burger eater or the plant eater.”

-

The desk was pushed from the center of the wall to the corner. A twin bed taking its old space. Small bookcase next to it, every one of the novels Waverly had collected over the years eager to be read and reread over and over.

A young teen gazed upon the shelf, smiling. His new parents beside him, smiling.

“Welcome home, Jackson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finale. (Part Two!)
> 
> So when I finished part one of this story here it felt... incomplete. Nicole and Waverly, to me, felt incomplete. I wasn’t personally a big fan of them spending their lives together whilst that lie was held between them, and the fact the game this was based on had a bunch of trailers come out really pushed that need to keep writing for this little universe. So here’s my short little answer to that!
> 
> Thank you for reading. Thanks for visiting a sequel to a story that had its run a loonngg time ago. Next up I’ll be doing a sci-fi treasure hunt AU, if that suits your fancy. Needs a bit of work but should be up soon!
> 
> Keep on Earpin’...


End file.
